


If I'm To Die

by somewhereoverthedeadbodies



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen, Healing, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mystery, Other, Slice of Life, Supernatural Elements, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29646528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somewhereoverthedeadbodies/pseuds/somewhereoverthedeadbodies
Summary: The Winchesters find a psychologist specializing in treating the Uncommons-- the hunters, the atypicals, the ones who have nowhere else to go. They decide to give it a shot, but can it really help them heal decades of trauma? Can they, despite all threats, finally be a normal family?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Lucifer/Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Oh, Misbeliever.

She hadn’t planned to get involved. Not at first. She stared at the blank prescription pad. Her next patient was waiting.  She tensed up, knowing whatever drama that this couple brought to her office this time, she couldn’t turn them away. Not after what she did. “Come in—”

A few months earlier:

“Look, doc, all I’m saying is,” Dean shrugged, trying hard not to raise his voice, bouncing his feet, “I’m okay. We’re okay. Right, Sammy? We need a good ol’ vacation and we’re gonna be right as rain.”

Theodora raised her eyebrows. She noted Dean’s evasiveness whenever it came to talking about their family business. Not that the other two let slip many details. It was their second session, Sam, Dean, and Cas. She had  explicitly  told them that she couldn’t help if they weren’t as transparent as they could  possibly  be.  Being a psychologist for the Uncommons meant dealing with a lot of crazy things, and there was almost nothing she wasn’t willing to believe  .  But years and years of repression meant opening up could be harder for them than all her other clients combined  . And while she was okay with waiting, she didn't have time for any of Dean’s crap. She looked at him  pointedly , putting her game face on.

“So, Dean,” she drawled, making sure to hold his gaze, “if that is what you believe, why did you agree to come with your brother?”

“Uh, well,” he stammered. Sam snickered at his brother, nudging Cas. Theo waited, knowing all too well that pushing too hard might drive him further away.

“Well, the TV had nothing going on and this sounded like loads of fun,” he finally replied  wryly  , “well, considering he paid .”

“So, you’re here for entertainment?”

“Uh, yeah—” he chuckled, sprawling on his chair, “—why else would I be here? Of all places? No offense but therapy sounds like a bunch of bull.”

Theodora jotted down a few points in her pad, face impassive. She tilted her head waiting in uncomfortable silence.

“What, you think if you stayed quiet long enough, I’d spill my beans?” Dean grumbled, “and start talking about my dad?”

“Do you want to talk about your father, Dean?” Theo answered, her face and voice still impassive. “Sam, why don’t you two wait outside? I’ll call you when we’re done.” She smiled, pointing to the door. This was going to be hard, she figured and searched Dean’s face. “So, do you want to talk about your father?”

“Actually, I’d rather not. I, well, my old man wasn’t the best of people, but he tried, alright. He tried his best and I—”

Theo raised her hand.  It was too early to try breaking this shell, and she’d rather not waste her time listening to Dean justify his father’s actions  . “Let’s talk about your family business first, if you don’t mind.  Now, you have gone to great lengths trying to hide what exactly you do, but, a path to recovery means talking about the things that are bothering you, making sure we find the perfect game-plan towards healing .”

“We hunt things—”

“Yes, or so I’ve heard. But that’s the CliffsNotes version. I need the unabridged one.”

Dean snorted a little, relaxing his forehead. Theo returned his smile, her pen scratching at the pad, and waited for him to begin.

“The motto’s always been saving lives, hunting things: the family business. Sounds hella cool, consider batman but edgier, but it’s just  — a hole that you can’t stop digging once you start. And you’re not digging something cool either,  just your grave. But by the time you realize that you’re in too deep and the life always catches up to you. Always.

“I took the weight of the world on my shoulders. Thought I’d have to save them all. And like every wide-eyed hero on a quest that they aren’t meant for, I failed. Kind of a cliché, you’d think. All I ever wanted was peace. To make sure people were okay. If I didn’t save their asses, who will? I got blood on my hands for them. I—I got good people killed. And I know, I know what I’m feeling is wrong.  Greater purpose and everything, but every time I close my damn eyes all I can see is the faces of people I’ve killed and God only knows I’ve killed how many.

“I hear the screams, no, not very loud. Only like a ringing that no amount of booze can shut out. This life, it’s been eating away at me and now I’m a pathetic excuse of a man, a hunter no less.” Dean stopped to take a breath, his eyes glistening. Theodora lowered her shoulders, placing her perfectly manicured hands on the table.

“It’s okay.” She took his hand, and replied with a solemn face, “it’s okay to feel the pain of everyone you lost. It’s only normal.”

“It’s part of the gig, you know. You’re covered in blood and then you’re covered in your own blood. There’s no way out. And now, more than ever, I  just  want this to end.”

“Why can’t you get out? What’s stopping you?” Theo knew enough to tread carefully. This could either help or make things exponentially worse.

"Because, like it or not, there are people to save. And no one else is dumb enough to get into this life. So, we have to."

"Alright, Dean. I think I have a clearer picture now, thanks to you. I would like to assign you some tasks: first, to start journaling your emotions. You might feel numb, but that's an emotion too. So, write them down. And I'd like to see it the next time you come in. Second, I want you to practice breathing techniques. Like I'm showing you right now. That'll be all. Could you please ask Castiel to come inside now?"


	2. 'Home' Is A Strange Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Sam's fifth session with Theodora. What news will he bring now?

_Doctor Theodora Grey’s notes._

_Session 5, Sam Winchester._

_The patient is calmer than in the previous sessions. Restless legs. Talks in circles about their profession. Uses humor to deflect questions related to the life’. Further investigation is required to assess the depth of trauma incurred._

“So, tell me, Sam, what’s new?” She asked softly, keeping her pen down.

“Let’s see—Jack and Claire are at Jody’s, Charlie’s been hooking me up with some amazing movies and oh—Dean proposed.” He grinned wide, cracking his knuckles. Theo noticed, returning it with a bigger smile.

“To Cas? That’s good news. I believe this is a step in the right direction to heal. But that’s about them. What about you, Samuel? What’s new?” She pressed on, trying to assess his condition.

“Well, I don’t know… it’s almost the same. I’ve been going around trying to find a job but who would want to hire a middle-aged college dropout in this economy… so job hunting is, well, not that great. But I’m ready. I really just wish things work out this time, you know? We’ve always tried to quit the life but—but it’s never gone for long.” Sam sighed,

“I see. And what about sleep? Are you having nightmares?”

“Yes, but not as much as I used to. The medicines are helping, I think. Thanks for convincing Doctor Lane to see us, though. I think we all needed something to cope, well, something that isn’t booze or self-prescribed.”

“Do you remember anything from these nightmares?”

“I—yes. Yes, I do.” He ran his fingers through his thinning hair, unkempt and tied into a low-hanging ponytail. “I think it’s from my time in the cage. Or—or you know, what my brain makes me believe. It’s just me doing something so simple but when I turn around, I’m standing there all alone with nothing but darkness, and then there’s _him._ He’s back and he’s throwing me around, skinning me alive and I can feel—I can feel my body giving out and it’s just…” his voice quivered and he rubbed his eyes.

“It’s not even like I’m going through the torture again, no. it’s so much worse. I’d be running, trying to escape a serial killer clown and they’d be chasing me down the streets, and when they get to me—it-it’s him. It’s Lucifer. And sure, we’ve worked together after everything but… but I remember what he did to me. Bits and pieces at least. Enough to keep me up at night, wondering if all of this is even real or just a long-ass nightmare in the cage because I don’t fucking know what’s real anymore.”

“I see. Would you like to talk more about your dreams?”

“Is it okay if we don’t?”

“It all depends on you, Samuel. If you want to talk about something, you talk about it. If you don’t, then you don’t. We can sit here in silence for the rest of our time together today if that’s what you’d like.”

“I—I want to talk about Dean.”

Theo quirked her eyebrows, scratching a few more lines in her notepad.

_The patient seems to be comfortable enough to open up about his and his brother’s co-dependent relationship._

“Yes, please go ahead.”

“Look, I’m grateful to have him, I really am. But how am I supposed to do anything when he’s always hovering over me? I get that we haven’t had the smoothest life but things are looking better now with Chuck gone, so why he’s still choosing to hover over me is so frustrating to think about. He’s got this whole responsibility thing going on but Dad’s not here anymore. He isn’t responsible for me. And I just don’t understand why he doesn’t get it.”

“I could help you try to see it from his perspective. Your dad loved both of you, but losing your mom meant he became too protective of you, under the circumstances. So, your brother was left to deal with the consequences. On one hand, he missed out on the care that he was supposed to receive, and on the other, he had to act as a primary caregiver to you. So, subconsciously, Dean still thinks he’s responsible for you. And—”

“So, it’s my fault?”

“It’s easy to blame, Sam. Not so much to understand. I don’t think you’re at fault here. And I’m sure neither does Dean. But our opinions are secondary. Do you believe it’s your fault?”

“I think so. It may all have been cosmic intervention but—I’m the one who got mom killed. And I’m the one who he had to look after. So—”

“Let me stop you right there. A fancy way of saying what you’re going through right now would be a guilt cycle. And the only way out of it is to stop feeding it. Yes, unfortunate things happened. But it’s not your fault. It never was. And deep, deep down, you know that it’s true.”

“Then why can’t I stop thinking about how none of this would’ve happened if I didn’t exist?”

Theo smiled, sadness tugging at the corners of her eyes. "That'll be years of repression, trauma, and depression for you. Have you tried expressing your emotions through anything?"

"Like what?"

"Say, art, maybe." She asked. "I'm thinking of putting you under an art therapy course. But this is all the time we have today, so let's discuss it in our next session, alright?" 


End file.
